‘“Oh, robber! Oh, rogue! who are you and whence do you come? What stones? what effects have we which belong to you?”

‘Thus saying, they struck me several blows with a stick; and as I threatened to go and complain to the cadi, they anticipated me and went to the judge. They made profound reverences to him, and after having presented several stones to him which they had about them, and which were, per­haps, mine, they said to him:

‘“Oh, torch of justice, light which dissipates the darkness of dishonesty, we have recourse to you. We are weak strangers; we come from the ends of the world to traffic here. Is it just that a thief should insult us, and will you permit him to take from us, by an imposture, what we have only acquired after endless labour, and at the risk of our lives?”

‘“Who is the man whom you complain of?” said the cadi to them.

‘“My lord,” they replied, “we do not know him; we have never seen him.”

‘I arrived at the judge’s house at that moment. They cried out as soon as they saw me:

‘“There he is, my lord, this wretch, this thief, who is even bold enough to come to your palace, and to confront your glances, which should terrify the guilty. Great judge, deign to protect us.”

‘I approached the cadi to speak in my turn; but having no presents to offer him, it was impossible to me to make myself heard. The resolute and tranquil manner which the ease of my conscience gave me, passed in his prejudiced mind for a mark of effrontery. He ordered his archers to conduct me to prison, which they did. Whilst they loaded me with chains, my companions went away tri­umphant, and well persuaded that I should have need of a fresh miracle to escape from the hands of the cadi.

‘I should not indeed have escaped as happily as from the gulf, but for an incident which occurred, which was another visible sign of the goodness of Heaven.

‘The peasants who had brought me to Ormus learnt by chance that I had been imprisoned. Touched with compassion, they went to the cadi; they told him how they had met me and detailed all I had told them on the mountain. The judge, on their report, opened his eyes, repented of not having wished to hear me, and resolved to investi­gate the matter.

‘He sent for the two merchants at the caravan­serai, but they were not there. They had already regained their vessel and set sail; for, in spite of the intervention of the judge, I did not fail to cause them uneasiness.

‘So prompt a flight persuaded the cadi that I was unjustly imprisoned. He set me at liberty, and this was the end of my association with these two dishonest jewellers.

‘Escaped from the sea and justice, I ought to have felt not a little grateful to Heaven; but I was not in a situation calculated to inspire great gratitude at being saved. Without money, without friends, without credit, I saw myself reduced to subsist on charity or die of hunger. I left Ormus without knowing what would become of me, and went towards the country which is between the mountains and the Persian Sea. There I met a caravan of merchants from Hindoostan, who were setting out to take the road to Shiraz. I joined these merchants, and through the little services I rendered them I found means of subsisting. I went with them to Shiraz, where I stopped.

‘The king, Shah Tahmasp, was holding his court in this town.

‘One day that I was returning from the grand mosque to the caravanserai where I was lodged, I perceived an officer of the king of Persia: he was richly dressed and well-built; he looked at me very attentively, approached me and said: “O young man, from what country are you? I see you are a stranger, and I do not think you are in prosperity.”

‘I replied that I was from Bagdad, and that as regarded his conjecture, it was but too true. Then I related my story succinctly to him: he seemed to listen with attention and showed himself sensible to my misfortune.

‘“How old are you?” he said to me.

‘“I am,” I replied, “in my nineteenth year.”

‘He ordered me to follow him. He preceded me and took the road to the king’s palace, which I entered with him. He led me into a very fine apartment, where he said me:

‘“What is your name?”

‘I replied that I was named Hassan. He asked me several other questions, and, satisfied with my replies:

‘“Hassan,” he replied, “I am touched at your misfortune and I am anxious to act as a father to you. Know that I am the captain of the door of the chamber of the King of Persia. There is a vacant place in the king’s chamber. I select you to fill it: you are handsome, young, and well-made. I cannot make a better choice. There are no pages of the king’s chamber at this moment whom you do not surpass in appear­ance.”

‘I thanked the captain for all the kindness he showed me: he took me under his protection and had a page’s dress given me. I was instructed in all my duties, and I began to acquit myself in a manner which soon attracted to me the esteem of all the officers of the king’s pages and did honour to my patron.

‘It was forbidden, under pain of death, to all the pages of the twelve chambers, as well as to all the officers of the palace and the soldiers of the guard, to remain at night in the gardens of the seraglio after a certain hour indicated, because the women walked here sometimes. I was quite alone there one evening, and was dreaming of my mis­fortunes. I was so absorbed in my reflections that I let the time prescribed for the men to retire pass. My reverie came to an end, however, and thinking that the moment for retreat could not be far off, I hastened precipitately to re-enter the palace, when a lady, at the turning of an alley, presented herself suddenly before me. She had a majestic bearing, and in spite of the darkness of the night I remarked that she possessed youth and beauty.

‘“You are hurrying very much,” she said to me; “what makes you run thus?”

‘“I have my reasons,” I replied; “if you belong to this palace, as I do not doubt, you cannot be in ignorance of them? You know it is forbidden to men to be seen in these gardens after a certain hour, and that their life is endangered if this order is dis­obeyed.”

‘“You are rather late in thinking of retiring,” replied the lady, “the hour has passed; but you may thank your stars, for otherwise you would not have met me.”

‘“How unhappy I am!” I cried, heeding nothing but the new danger in which I saw myself placed. Why did I let myself be overtaken by the time?”

‘“Do not grieve,” said the lady, “your grief is an insult to me. Ought you not to be consoled already for your misfortune? Look at me, I am not ill-made; I am only eighteen, and as for my face, I flatter myself it is not disagreeable.”

‘“Beautiful lady, although the night partly conceals your charms from me, I see more than enough to enchant me; but consider my position and admit it is rather an unhappy one.”

‘“It is true,” she replied, “that the danger you are in does not offer a very bright aspect to your mind. Your destruction, however, is perhaps not so assured as you imagine: the king is a good prince who might pardon you. Who are you?

‘“Madam,” I replied, “I am a page.”

‘“Ah !indeed,” she interrupted, “you reason well for a page; the grand vizir could not do better. Believe me, do not fret to-day about what may happen to-morrow. You do not know what may occur: Heaven alone knows and has, perhaps, already prepared a way out of your dilemma: let the future, then, alone, and only occupy yourself with the present. Believe me that if you knew who I am and all the honour done to you by this adventure, instead of poisoning such sweet moments by bitter reflections you would esteem yourself the happiest of men.”

‘The lady, by dint of persuasion, ended by driving away the fear which agitated me. The picture of the punishment which threatened me gradually faded away from my mind, and, yielding myself entirely to the flattering hopes which I had been allowed to conceive, I only thought to profit by the occasion. I embraced the lady enthusiasti­cally; but far from lending herself to my embraces, she uttered a cry, repulsing me the while, and immediately I saw ten or twelve women appear, who were hidden to listen to our conversation.

‘It was not difficult for me to perceive then that the person who had just been so pleasant to me was laughing at me. I imagined her to be some slave of the Princess of Persia, who, for her own amusement, had wished to play the adventuress. All the other women ran promptly to her assistance, laughing heartily: they found her trembling with the fright I had caused her. “Calé-Cairi,” said one of them to her, “do you still wish to play such games again?”